The Grand Illusion
by I am The Lev
Summary: In life, there are a lot of what ifs. What if Robin had never voiced his dissent? What if he'd bowed to authority? What if the outlaws were granted the opportunity to see the results of this hypothetical? WillDjaq, AllanMorgan, RobinMarian, GuyMarian.
1. Deceit

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled, stretching out across the soft mattress. Slowly sitting up, he yawned and took in his surroundings. He decided that it was a very nice room. He slowly got out of the bed, taking in the clothes that were set out on the chair next to it. He tilted his head to the side.

They were very nice clothes. He furrowed his brow. Were they his? Come to think of it, was the room his? The door swung open, and a servant girl stepped in, giggling and looking away as she took in the sight of him. He glanced down, realizing that he was in his underwear. He quickly grabbed the sheet from the bed, holding it in front of him.

"Sorry, Master. I just came to see if you were awake," she apologized, dipping her head in a curtsey. He stared at the girl, unsure of what she was talking about.

"Beg pardon?" he asked, glancing around to see if there was anyone else in the room that she could've been talking to. The servant girl blinked in confusion, then her hand shot to her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Master. The physician said that you would have trouble remembering," she reminded herself. He stared at her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand," he admitted.

"Get dressed, Master, and I'll show you around."

---

The clothes fit him like a glove, so they were definitely his. He stepped out of the bedroom, finding the servant girl outside the door. She led him down the stairs, pointing out rooms as they passed them, labeling them. They stepped outside of the manor, turning to face it.

"This is Locksley Manor," she pointed at the large house. She took him by the shoulders, turning him about to face the small village. "And this is Locksley." The villagers seemed busy, carrying water, tending to the small gardens by their cottages. There was something oddly familiar about the scene before him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I live here?" he asked. The servant girl smiled.

"You are the lord of this manor, Master," she reminded.

"Lord?" he asked, confused. He would've thought that he'd remember something like that, but, at present, he was having trouble remembering anything at all.

"Ah, here's Sir Guy and Allan. They can explain everything to you, Master," the girl excused herself, pointing out the two men approaching on horseback. They dismounted and approached him, and he couldn't help but think that he knew them from somewhere, but he couldn't quite think of where.

"Ah, Locksley! Good to see you up and about again," the taller man called. "I thought for sure that you would never wake up." The shorter of the two remained silent, the look on his face voicing his discomfort.

"Do I know you?" he asked, trying to figure out what was happening. The taller man grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Let's go inside. I can explain everything."

---

"You were heading back from London. Your carriage was attacked by outlaws. They beat you within an inch of your life. When we found you, you didn't remember anything," The taller man, who'd introduced himself as Guy, recalled.

"I still don't remember anything," he pointed out. The shorter of the two men, Allan, suddenly stood, muttering an excuse as he walked out of the room. Guy watched him go, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, my friend. I'm here to help," he reassured, turning back to him.

"Are we friends, then?" he asked, trying not to offend the leather clad man.

"Best friends," Guy confirmed. "Now, come on. We're going to Nottingham. The Sheriff will be glad to hear that you are well again."

"I'd hardly say that I am well. I don't even remember my name!" he sputtered.

"The physician warned us that you might lose your memory. The Sheriff is aware," Guy promised, standing and walking to the door. He paused at the threshold, glancing over his shoulder. "By the way, your name is Robin."

---

"So, this is Nottingham?" Robin asked as they approached. Beside him, Allan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

"You really don't remember anything?" he asked. Robin shook his head, wondering why this Allan fellow seemed so uncomfortable around him.

"Nothing at all," he confirmed. Allan looked straight ahead, not saying another word. Robin frowned. Had he offended Allan? He hoped not; he seemed like a nice guy. They rode under the portcullis, and a beggar hobbled over to them, holding out a small cup, asking for money. The beggar was wearing a cloak, but Robin guessed she was blind, the way that she stumbled.

"Alms for the blind?" she asked in a croaky sort of voice.

"I'll take care of it," Allan muttered, sliding off of his horse and taking the beggar by the arm, leading her out of the castle and into the crowded market place. Robin watched Allan go, marveling at how kind the man was to escort the beggar. He was pulled from his thoughts by Guy.

"Robin, let's go," he called. "The Sheriff is expecting us."

---

Allan led the beggar into the marketplace, pulling her into an alleyway.

"Do I need to point out how risky that was?" he asked. The "beggar" pulled back her hood, revealing long, raven hair, dark green eyes, and soft lips curved in a smile.

"Relax, Allan. You're starting to sound like Much," she joked, quickly standing on tiptoes and kissing him on the lips. She lingered there for a moment, drinking in the heat of their proximity. Despite being married, they hadn't seen each other in over a week. Locksley was no longer a safe place for their nighttime rendevous, and Robin's capture had kept Allan busy. Just as quickly as she'd snuck the sign of affection, her mood became suddenly serious. "How is he?"

"Bad," Allan replied quickly, running a hand through his hair. "Can't remember anything. Not being funny, but he actually believed Guy's sad excuse for a story."

"Which was?" Morgan asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"That they're best friends, and Robin was attacked by outlaws," Allan muttered lamely. Morgan held up a hand.

"You had me at 'they're best friends,'" she shook her head. "You better get back in there. I'll get word to the gang. Whatever we do, we have to move quickly. I have a bad feeling about this."

"That makes two of us," Allan grumbled. "If anything comes up, I'll send word with Renton."

They exchanged another quick kiss, and Allan watched her pull her hood back up and practically melt into the shadows. Allan didn't know which was more odd, the fact that she had disappeared with such ease, or the fact that he found her new skill extremely attractive.

---

"Ah, Locksley! Took you long enough to come around," the Sheriff commented, sitting forward in his chair. Robin smiled at the joking tone in the Sheriff's voice.

"You're the Sheriff?" he asked, looking to Guy, who nodded. "I am terribly sorry, sir. I really can't remember anything." He could've sworn that he saw a smile flitting across the Sheriff's face, but he dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Why would the man smile about his loss of memory?

"There will be a feast tonight in honor of your recovery, Locksley. I expect you to attend. In the meantime, Gisborne, I want you to reacquaint Robin with the castle."

"Yes, my lord," Gisborne replied with the air of a child being nagged by his mother. Robin followed the tall, leather-clad man out of the Great Hall, waving pleasantly over his shoulder at the Sheriff before ducking out of the room.

---

"Allan, this could not be more perfect," The Sheriff commented. Allan nodded, though he was barely paying any attention to the balding man. Still, the Sheriff continued, explaining himself. "Robin Hood, hero of the people, can't even remember who he is! Someday, you're going to have to tell me how you think of all of these wonderful plans." Allan smiled wanly, feeling that it would be unwise to say that he'd only suggested his plan to keep Robin alive.

Even armed with that bit of knowledge, Allan couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself. The plan he'd come up with was nothing short of conniving, and the mere fact that he'd thought it up worried him. True, it wasn't his fault that Robin had gotten caught in the first place. They'd been trying to rob the castle again, and Robin had been hit while he stalled for the others to escape.

When the Sheriff had found out that Robin had lost his memory, he had wanted to hang him. After all, he couldn't torture Hood for information that he couldn't remember. Panicking, Allan had thrown together a plan, which he immediately relayed to the Sheriff.

They would return Robin to Locksley, act as if he'd never become an outlaw. Robin would believe that he was doing what was right, giving the Sheriff his support on the council of nobles, and the villagers, seeing that Robin had returned to a life of nobility, would think that he'd abandoned them.

The Sheriff was still delighting in the underhandedness of the plan. Allan, however, had decided that he'd been spending too much time with the sadistic psychopath. He was grateful when Marian entered the room, asking for him.

"Guy doesn't want me to go to market without an escort. He said that you'd go with me," she explained to Allan. Allan tried not to look too eager, shrugging nonchalantly at the Sheriff before following Marian out of the castle.

---

"Who is she?" Robin asked, peering down from the battlements. Guy followed his point, spotting Marian and Allan heading to the market.

"That's Marian," Guy smirked affectionately, a fact that Robin didn't miss.

"Your wife?" he asked. Guy barely managed to maintain his casual demeanor, though he could've easily been described as a mix of thunderstruck and delighted.

"Working on it," he finally replied, surprised to see Robin nod with approval. "You don't think she's pretty?" Robin shrugged at the question.

"She's alright. Doesn't look like my type," he answered bluntly, scratching at the back of his ear. Guy waited until Robin looked away before looking skyward, thanking the powers that be for that particular stroke of luck. Robin really was out of it.

---

"There's the feast tonight, which means there will be alcohol," Allan started, plotting out the next stage of his plan while Marian pretended to shop. "Smug as the Sheriff is being, I'm sure everyone will be proper drunk by the time it's all over."

"So, they'll take him when he leaves for Locksley," Marian concluded. Allan nodded.

"That is the plan," he muttered. "In the meantime, try to talk to him. Maybe he'll remember something if he talks to you." Marian smiled at the implications of Allan's statement, folding the fabric she was looking at and handing it to the vendor to wrap up for her.

"I'll try, but he's well guarded," she pointed out, the smile on her lips falling slightly. "At any rate, I'm not supposed to be involved with him, remember?" Seeing that it was not the response that Allan needed to her, she changed the subject.

"How are things going with your marriage?" she asked innocently, avoiding mentioning name to be safe.

"Difficultly," Allan answered flatly. "Not being funny, but it's hard when I barely get to see her. This whole business with Robin isn't helping, either." Marian shot in a quick look, and he found it necessary to expound.

"I'm not saying that it's his fault. I'm just pointing out that with us all focusing on how to get him out of here, it's difficult to concentrate on anything else," he clarified. Marian seemed satisfied, paying for the cloth and heading to a different booth. Allan followed her, glancing back at the castle.

They had to get Robin out of there. Allan himself was influenced enough by the man, and he was fully cognizant of his surroundings. He shuddered to think what influence the Sheriff would have on Robin, especially in his condition.

"You're a good man, Allan," Marian suddenly said. Allan turned back to her, a little confused. He had, after all, suggested his insane plan and gotten Robin caught up in this whole mess.

"Why?" he asked. Marian grinned.

"You're going out of your way to help Robin. You don't have to do that," she explained. "The gang could've come up with a way to save him."

"Yeah, well," Allan muttered sheepishly. "Whatever I can do to help."

---

Renton whistled as he walked through the largely empty streets, heading out of Nottingham at a brisk pace. He lived in Clun, which was quite a distance away, especially when he considered that he didn't have a horse. He ignored the minor inconvenience, keeping the steady pace as he went. He stuck to the main path, glad that the moon was full.

He shook his head, thinking of Leah, his beautiful, abundantly pregnant wife, and Adam and Jill, his children. Suddenly, the night wasn't so dark, and Clun wasn't so far away. He pushed forward, the voice from before pushed from his mind as he whistled. The joy of the thought of returning to his family manifested as a smile, then as a spring in his step, then the whistle turned into a hum before escalating to full-blown song.

"Let it now be taught  
If a man is as he ought  
Alleluia!  
The beer will sing:  
_Res miranda!_  
Wonderful thing!" He'd heard someone singing the song when he and Allan had gone for lunch at the Greenbriar Tavern, and it had been stuck in his head ever since. To his surprise, a woman's voice joined him, ringing clear as a bell through the night air.

"Drink, if there's beer in your jar -  
It's far to the sun from the stars  
Drink it well, drink it deep.  
Out of the barrel flows the beer  
_Semper clara_  
Always clear!" Morgan laughed from her spot in the tree, swinging down from the branches, landing beside Renton.

"Morgan, nice to see you," he greeted with a grin.

"You, too, Rent," she returned. "Any word from Allan?" Renton nodded.

"He wanted me to tell you that the feast will run late, but you lot shouldn't have trouble grabbing him on the way back to Locksley," he reported. Morgan grinned, hugging Renton quickly.

"Precisely what we want to hear," she said on behalf of the gang. "Did he say anything else?" Renton coughed, reaching into his pocket and handed a piece of folded parchment to her.

"Didn't think it would be appropriate for me to read it," he muttered. Morgan took the note, looking it over. The writing was tidy and had a feminine curve to it.

"I believe that he got Lady Marian to help him," Renton mentioned casually. Morgan smiled, tucking the note into her breastpocket.

"Thanks again, Rent. Now, rabbit off. I'm sure Jill misses you." Nodding, grinning at the thought of his wife, Renton restarted his journey to Clun, waving as Morgan went to alert the rest of the gang.

---

So, there's chapter one! The wisdom teeth removal went much more smoothly than I anticipated, so I'm posting a bit early.

This wasn't really supposed to be my next story, but I figured that it would fit a lot better if I posted it before the story that I'm writing as a sort of series finale for the Morgan Stories.

So, yes. I hope you all enjoy! Please review!


	2. A Blank Slate

Morgan hurriedly unfolded the note as soon as Renton was out of sight. Her eyes scanned the parchment, lit up in the pale moonlight. She couldn't help but giggle as she recalled Renton's comment. He was convinced that the writing on the paper belonged to Marian. Morgan didn't have the heart to tell him that the neat, tidy, girly handwriting was Allan's.

_Morgan,_

_Not being funny, but if I'd known that getting married meant seeing less of you, I never would've gone through with it. You know that I'm only joking. I love you, and I miss you terribly. The Sheriff and Guy are hardly fitting substitutes for your company._

_Speaking of Guy, I wanted to let you know that he'll be with the convoy that will escort Robin back to Locksley tonight. He's really got Robin fooled with the whole "best friends" bit. I'll do what I can to help you out, of course, but I can't be outright about it. Guy's not as thick as he looks._

_I look forward to seeing you again, and I hope that next time we'll have enough time to make our marriage official._

_Love,_

_Allan_

Morgan blushed as she re-read the last sentence. Only he would have the audacity to write something like that down. She folded the note, carefully returning it to her pocket and heading back to the camp.

---

The nobles all watched as the Sheriff stood before them, standing silent for a moment to build dramatic effect. He glanced down the table at the massive amount of food and, more importantly, wine. Suddenly, his neutral expression split into a wide grin, his bejeweled tooth catching the light.

"Lords and Ladies," he began, "we are gathered here tonight to celebrate the return of one of our own. For a time, it may have seemed like we'd lost him to the outlaws that run through the forest, undermining our authority and plaguing us with their lawlessness. Fortunately, he has come back to us. Let us not dwell on the events of the past! Let us move forward with a new start. A blank slate, if you will! I present to you now, Robin, Lord of Locksley, Earl of Huntington!"

The Sheriff stepped to the side, sweeping his arm to the entrance to the Great Hall. Robin stood in the doorway, nervously peeking in until his name was called. Marian, who was sitting next to Guy, couldn't believe that her fiancée, her Robin, was this timid-looking man before her. He entered, showered with applause from the rest of the table, smiling shyly at them before taking his seat next to the Sheriff, opposite of Guy. Allan was sitting on Robin's left, across from Marian.

"Good night for a feast," Allan commented, reaching for the pitcher of wine. Guy, remembering all too well the last time Allan had partaken in alcohol and the loss of his favorite pair of boots, quickly took the pitcher from Allan, pouring for the Sheriff, Robin, Marian, and himself. Allan rolled his eyes, instead accepting a goblet of water from one of the serving girls.

"It is good to see you again, Robin," Marian smiled, "Especially after that horrendous ordeal with those outlaws." Robin returned the smile.

"About that. Do you have any idea who these outlaws were?" he asked, looking to the Sheriff for an answer. It was an answer that the Sheriff didn't have, so he looked to Guy, who in turn looked to Allan.

"They're just a rag tag group that lives in Sherwood Forest. Always causing trouble, that lot," he provided.

"So, you've dealt with them before?" Robin asked, taking a drink of wine. This time, the Sheriff did have an answer.

"Far too many times," he muttered darkly. Even in his current state, Robin could hear the angry edge in the Sheriff's voice. "No worry, though, Locksley. They'll soon be taken care of."

"You've caught them?" Robin asked.

"Not yet," Guy cut in. "But we will. We know what they look like. It's only a matter of time." Allan didn't point out that Guy had been saying this for over a year now, but he did notice that Marian was doing everything short of stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

"What do they look like?" Robin pressed, curiosity piqued. Allan hid his look of foreboding. If the Sheriff explained what the gang looked like, it'd make it a lot more difficult for them to rehabilitate Robin. Unfortunately, that's exactly what the Sheriff proceeded to do. Both Allan and Marian resisted the urge to stab the Sheriff with their forks.

"There's that large, mountain of a man. The skinny, little carpenter. The Saracen woman. The one that whines all the time," The Sheriff ticked off on his fingers. "The lovely, little blacksmith. All of them terrible criminals. Not to mention the Night Watchman." At the mention of her alter-ego, Marian couldn't help but protest.

"I do not believe that the Night Watchman is in league with the outlaws," she voiced as calmly as she could. "He was around far before they showed up, and he's never once robbed anyone. He merely leaves food and medicine for the hungry and ill."

Robin's eyes snapped up from his plate, settling on Marian. She spoke with such fervor. Her eyes, which he hadn't been able to see from the battlements, shone with righteous fury. Robin shook his head. Hadn't Guy said that he planned to marry her? Robin's gaze fell back to the plate of food in front of him. If that was the case, Guy was one lucky man.

---

"How is he?" Much asked as Morgan entered the camp. She didn't answer right away, and Much braced himself for bad news.

"I have good news and bad news," she started, indirectly asking which bit they wanted to hear first.

"Bad news first," Little John decided while the rest nodded in agreement. Morgan took a deep breath.

"The bad news is that Robin doesn't remember anything," she said simply. "He can't remember who he is or who his friends are. Guy's fed him some story about how they're best friends or some kind of nonsense and that we were the ones that attacked him."

"Oh, is that all?" Much asked sarcastically. "And here I thought you had bad news."

"Well, the good news is that he'll be heading back to Locksley tonight, and that'll give us a chance of taking him back," Morgan continued. "So, I suppose that all we have to do know is come up with a plan."

---

Robin sat on the steps that led into the castle. He had honestly been enjoying himself, but trying to remember all of the information he'd been told proved to be a bit overwhelming. The names of all of the nobles, the descriptions of the outlaws that had ganged up on him, the way that Marian girl kept shooting him looks. If Guy hadn't already told him that he was working on marrying her, Robin would've sworn that the looks were flirtatious. Not that he minded.

"You alright?" He recognized the voice as Marian's and turned to see her coming down the steps, sitting next to him. Robin nodded.

"I'm fine. A bit overwhelmed, but no worse for wear," he commented. Marian was pretty sure that she didn't agree with that, but didn't press the matter just yet. Music could be heard from inside the castle. They listened for a few moments before Marian decided to break the silence.

"Do you remember anything yet?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope," came the disappointing reply. "I only know what the Sheriff and Guy have been telling me." Marian wasn't sure what the Sheriff and Guy had been telling him, but she knew that every second that he spent in their company was a second too many.

"It's late. Will you return to Locksley?" she asked, changing the subject once more. It was quickly becoming the most awkward conversations she'd ever had with Robin. Usually, he flirted with wild abandon, but so far he hadn't given any hint of being interested in her. She attributed this to the blow to the head, but that didn't make her any less agitated.

"As soon as Guy and Allan are ready to go," he yawned. At that moment, Allan exited the Great Hall, muttering fiercely under his breath. If there were two things that he didn't want to be at the moment, they were "in Nottingham" and "sober." Much to his dislike, he was abundantly both. He'd finally talked Guy into leaving for Locksley, and the taller man was following behind him, his disposition comparatively chipper.

"Good evening, Marian," Guy greeted while Allan brought the horses around. "I see that you and Locksley are reconnecting with each other."

"Sort of," Marian replied flatly. "I was merely making sure that he was alright." Guy smiled at her compassion. After discovering that she was the Night Watchman, Guy had squeezed Allan for information. His right hand man swore up and down that he'd never even seen the Night Watchman around the camp, that the Night Watchman had nothing to do with Robin, and he'd also pointed out that if Marian was in league with Hood, why in the world would she come back to the castle?

So, when Guy had come out to see Robin and Marian sitting on the steps together, he'd chalked it up to her seemingly endless compassion, her concern for every other living soul.

---

They had a handful guards with them. Four, if he'd counted correctly, which he liked to think that he did. He was eager to make a move; the sight of his master, laughing and joking around with Gisborne, was unnerving. Beside him, Morgan was also shifting impatiently. It occurred to Much that putting the two most fidgety people on the same post may not have been the best idea. Still, he was determined to at least be more patient than Morgan.

"Will you quit moving around?" he hissed.

"Sorry," Morgan apologized. "I'm just ready to go."

"Ready to see Allan is more like it," Much corrected.

"But I haven't seen him in such a long time!" Morgan pointed out, a slight pout in her voice.

"Should've thought of that before you went and married him," Much replied flatly.

---

"You know, Guy," Robin was saying loudly. "I think I've changed my mind." Guy shot him a puzzled look.

"About what?" he asked. Robin smirked.

"About that Marian girl," he commented slyly. Guy stared for a moment, not liking where Robin was heading.

"I thought you said that she wasn't your type," he reminded. Robin sheepishly scratched at the back of his ear.

"Yeah, well, that was before I actually talked to her. There's something about the way she talks, you know? The way that she smiles with her eyes," he commented, sounding something like a love-struck puppy. This did not sit well with Guy, who cleared his throat. Robin looked over at him, instantly seeing how upset his observation had made his friend. He grinned apologetically.

"Sorry. Can't help the way that I feel," he muttered, slowing his horse down so that he was riding next to Allan instead, holding up the rear of the convoy. "Allan, how serious are Guy and Marian?" Allan hesitated to answer.

"Guy is pretty serious about it," he answered, keeping his voice down so that only Robin could hear him. Robin had the good sense to lower his own voice.

"So, they aren't courting?" he asked hopefully. Realizing how he must've sounded, he hastily explained himself. "I know that Guy and I are meant to be best friends and all, but if he's not actually courting her…" He didn't finish his sentence, and the grin that Allan shot him implied that he didn't have to. Robin grinned back, satisfied.

---

From their hiding places, the gang decided that they weren't going to get a better opportunity. Silently moving out of the trees, they quickly and quietly knocked out the guards in the back of the small convoy. Slipping their uniforms over their clothes with a practiced ease, they matched stride with the rest of the convoy. Little John and Will prepared to grab Robin; Morgan snuck up alongside Allan.

At first, Allan was a bit confused when the guard next to him reached up and grabbed his hand. He glanced down, immediately noticing that the "guard" was wearing a uniform meant for someone much larger, not to mention a rather feminine wedding ring. He smiled, lacing his fingers in hers.

"Did you get my message?" he asked. Morgan blushed in reply, changing the subject.

"Ride next to Guy," she instructed quietly. "We're going to take Robin." Allan glanced over at Robin, seeing that Will and Little John were on either side of him. Allan quickened his pace, riding next to a very disgruntled looking Guy.

"You alright?" Given Guy's less-than-sunny disposition, Allan thought it wise to avoid Guy's nickname.

"He's supposed to be like a blank slate," Guy said through clenched teeth. "So, why is he still attracted to her?" Allan subtly guided his horse so that he was out of Guy's reach.

"Maybe it's just one of those things," he commented. "You know. Fire is always hot, water is always wet, and Robin loves Marian." Guy shot him such a glare that if looks could kill, Allan would've died instantly.

"What? I didn't say it was a mutual thing," Allan pointed out, even though he knew that it was, in fact, an extremely mutual thing. Still, he wasn't about to tell that to Guy.

While Allan more or less distracted Guy, Will and John made their move. Will clamped a hand over Robin's mouth, stealthily pulling him off of his horse with Little John's help. They quickly made a mad dash into the woods, with Morgan at the rear, sword drawn just in case they were seen, which they inevitably were.

"Get after them!" Guy roared at Allan, who moved to follow. He was stopped in his tracks by a flurry of arrows. _Cover fire, courtesy of Much and Djaq_, Allan thought, glad that it was dark. He was having a hard time hiding his grin.

---

There's chapter two!

You guys didn't really think that I'd split Robin and Marian up, did you? I was merely implying that their love isn't superficial.

So, yes. I've just seen the finale, and I only have three words. WHAT THE HECK!? For those that haven't seen it yet, I won't spoil it. But still! Argh!

At any rate, I hope that you all enjoy. Please review!


	3. Feigning Innocence

"Has he come around yet?" He heard the voice, though it sounded like he was listening through water. Everything sounded muffled. "Maybe we fed him too much." At these worried words, he remembered something being forced into his mouth. It tasted like strawberries, and it had instantly put him to sleep. Slowly but surely, he started to open his eyes, mumbling groggily as he tried to stand.

"There he goes," someone else stated matter-of-factly. He felt someone hold him down by the shoulders. This much told him that he was not tied down. His eyes finally opened, focusing in on the person holding him down. He was a man with a wild head of hair and an even wilder beard. Robin stared in wonderment at the size of the man. He was like a mountain.

"Who are you?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The man holding him down looked disappointed, as if he was hoping for more of an answer. He shook his head and took his hands from Robin's shoulders, backing up to give him room. Robin slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest as he took in the apprehensive glances from the people that had crowded around him.

"Are you alright?" One of them asked, adjusting the cap on his head. Robin could tell that he was worried, but he couldn't figure out why. Still, Robin nodded that he was as 'alright' as an abducted person could hope to be. The nod seemed to take a great weight off of the fidgeting man's shoulders. He sighed with relief and then stepped over to what appeared to be a kitchen.

Robin took the opportunity to look at his surroundings, though he certainly didn't recognize the strange, hidden structure or the people in it. His gaze kept falling on the people in front of him, who were staring expectantly at him. Even the fidgeting man kept glancing over from the kitchen area.

"You didn't answer my question," Robin muttered suddenly. "Who are you?" It was the first time that the strangers had stopped staring at him, and they only did so long enough to stare blankly at each other.

"He really doesn't remember," the fidgeting man said, furiously stirring whatever it was he was cooking. He'd gone from "worried" to "upset" in a matter of moments, shooting the rest of the gang dark looks, as if demanding them to do something. After an intensely awkward moment of silence, the man threw his hands up in disgust, stomping out of the camp in a huff. The shorter of the two women darted after him without a word, shrugging as she offered the gang an apologetic look.

---

"Much!" Morgan called, jogging after the former manservant. "Much, wait!" She was pleasantly surprised when Much stopped in his tracks, allowing her to catch up to him.

"Much, talk to me," she asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. At first, he shook his head in stubborn refusal, shrugging off her hand and crossing his arms across his chest. He moved when she tried to replace her hand. Frowning, Morgan tried a third time. For a third time, her attempt was denied. Growing frustrated, she gave him a light punch in the arm, calling him in a bossy, demanding tone. "Much!"

"He doesn't remember anything!" Much snapped, the hurt in his voice betraying his real concern. _He doesn't remember me._ "I've spent most of my life watching him and worrying about him and protecting him! And he doesn't remember! What's more, he was joking around with _Gisborne_, of all people! I am worrying myself into an early grave for him, and he's laughing with that stupid, smarmy git!"

"Not being funny, but that's not Robin's fault," Morgan pointed out. "If you have to blame someone, you can blame me. This is my fault." Over the months that Much had spent in Morgan's company, he'd come to expect her to say certain phrases in times of duress. The most common of these phrases was one that she often uttered by reflex, and it was often a lie. _It's not my fault_, she would say, throwing her hands up, as if it made her statement more true.

Needless to say, Morgan's full acceptance of responsibility threw Much off-kilter.

"What?" he asked, unsure of what Morgan meant.

"This whole mess is my fault," she repeated. "I was the one that should've been hit round the head. I was supposed to guard the portcullis, but I wasn't there." As soon as the words left her mouth, Morgan found herself sprawled out on the forest floor.

"If you say that you were with Allan or watching some jester or anything short of saving King Richard, I'll hit you again," Much warned, offering the hand that he'd punched her with a moment earlier. Morgan took it, standing and rubbing her jaw.

"That's fair," she grinned. "Come on, then. I'm sure that he'll come around. You're not an easy person to forget, Much."

"But what if he doesn't remember?" Much asked, his worry overtaking his momentary anger. The grin wavered on Morgan's lips. She wished for the briefest of seconds that she had been a physician like Djaq. Djaq always knew what was going on. Sometimes, she didn't have particularly uplifting news, but the point was that she always had an answer. Morgan, however, was not a physician. She was a blacksmith.

"I don't know," she answered flatly. "We could ask Djaq."

"We could ask Djaq," Much agreed, ready to hear what the resident doctor had to say.

---

"There's nothing that I can do, as a physician," Djaq admitted, glancing over at Robin, who was being closely guarded by Little John. Will didn't say anything, continuing to listen to her. He had heard what she'd said, but he had also heard what she hadn't said. "_As a physician_" implied that while there was no medical recourse, there was something that could be done about Robin's condition.

"However, as his friends, we may be able to bring him back," Djaq continued. "Perhaps if we tell him about the times we've spent together, it'll jog his memory."

"We could just hit him around the head again," Morgan suggested under her breath.

"You don't want to tell him too much at once. It could overwhelm him. Start with the small things, but make sure that they're significant enough to be effective," Djaq warned.

"I think Morgan's way sounds easier," Much mumbled, adjusting his cap. "Who's going to go first?"

---

Allan was beginning to think that running headlong into a brick wall would be a reprieve from the hell that he was currently enduring. In the relentless bureaucracy that was Nottingham, Allan reckoned that he was the third tier. The Sheriff was the head honcho, followed by Guy, followed by Allan. There were definite perks to being the third tier, but he could only focus on the negatives of the job at present. Mostly, there was the yelling. The Sheriff liked to yell when things went wrong. And they had gone pretty wrong.

"Honestly, Gisborne! How could you muck this one up? All you had to do was make sure that Robin made it to Locksley. Obviously, even this simplistic task was too much for you and your boy to handle!" he snarled, picking a decorative ornament from his desk and hurling it across the room, narrowly missing Allan's head. "I want you to find Hood and bring him back here! I don't care if you have to search the whole bloody forest! Get it done!"

Allan got out of the room as quickly as he possibly could.

"Dogs," Gisborne muttered as they walked down the hallway. Allan glanced over at him, frowning.

"Dogs?"

"Did I stutter, Allan? Dogs! We'll use them to track down the outlaws," Guy barked. Allan braced himself. As the third tier, Allan had to endure not only the Sheriff's yelling, but Gisborne's as well. "You are lucky that I don't have you hanged! What were you thinking, leaving the back of the convoy?" Allan cringed, putting on his best innocent look. He'd never get away with it in the gang; they were all wise to the way that Allan used facial expressions as something of a weapon. Thankfully, though, Guy and the Sheriff seemed to be oblivious.

"Not being funny, but you seemed upset. I was trying to help." He neglected to add that he was trying to help the gang. Guy's sharp look of anger softened, and he heaved a sigh. Sensing that he'd be alright to continue with his plan, Allan cleared his throat. "Anyway, why bother with the dogs?"

"You have a better idea?" Guy asked tersely.

"Not being funny, but don't I always?"

---

Marian was sitting by her window, eyes closed as the night air blew across her face, sweet whispers of freedom that she longed for. She supposed that she could have this freedom, if that was what she really wanted, but she remained in the castle. For Robin, in part, so that she could get information.

Another part of her, however, stayed for Guy. She knew that he'd done things that he wasn't proud of, but she was also convinced that if someone would just believe in him, he could be a good person. He'd help save her life, after all, and bad people didn't save lives. She didn't think that she could ever love him the way he wanted her to love him, but she could offer him friendship, something that she felt he hadn't had nearly enough of in his life.

There was a knock on the door, and Marian turned to see Allan poke his head into the room.

"There's not much point knocking if you don't wait for a response," Marian grinned. "Just so you know."

"Noted. Robin's been captured by the gang, and in the morning, you and I are supposed to go looking for him," Allan informed. "Just so you know."

"Why me?" Marian asked, standing. Allan's eyes lit up, and Marian knew that it was part of his crazy idea.

"Well, I convinced Guy that if you went out there, the gang was less likely to try and take a shot at us. We'll go under the pretense of visiting an old friend of yours, and I'll use my superior tracking skills to find the lads," he explained quickly.

"So, that's what you told Guy. What's the real plan?" Marian asked. "You can't hand Robin back over to the Sheriff, and if you come back empty handed, you'll be punished."

"Don't worry about it," Allan waved nonchalantly. "I've got it all taken care of."

"Allan," Marian said firmly, a slight frown on her face. "It isn't stupid or dangerous, is it?"

"It is both stupid _and_ dangerous, but you'll like it. I promise," Allan winked, slipping out of the room before Marian could press him further. She shook her head in frustration. When she got the opprtunity, she was going to have to ask Morgan how to best deal with Allan; the man had a tendency to slip out of answering questions. It was no wonder Gisborne always had a headache after talking to him.

---

"I know who you are," Robin said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled. Little John stared back at him, wondering if he should go fetch the others. They'd all decided that Little John would speak with Robin first and had cleared out to give them some privacy. Little John's hopes were suddenly dashed, however, when Robin continued. "You're the outlaws that the Sheriff warned me about."

"Did he?" Little John asked cautiously, wondering exactly what lies the Sheriff had fed to Robin.

"He said that you were the ones who beat me, and that you would likely try to kidnap me again," Robin said, scooting back to put more distance between him and Little John. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No," Little John replied flatly. "The Sheriff is a liar."

"He said that you'd say something like that," Robin recalled.

"You are Robin Hood. You steal from the rich and give to the poor," Little John reminded.

"He said that you'd definitely say something like that," Robin muttered, standing to leave. Little John grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to sit back down. He missed the old Robin. This Robin was started to agitate him with his shenanigans. Little John didn't often speak, but if it would get the old Robin back, he'd sing the man the longest drinking song he knew, fully choreographed and all.

"You saved my wife," he said. "In Locksley. The Sheriff was going to have her tongue cut out, and you saved her." Robin stared at him, his facial expression as blank as his memory banks.

"I didn't like you back then," Little John admitted. "When I had my own gang. With Roy. Do you remember Roy?"

"I suppose I saved him, too?" Robin asked. Little John winced, slowly shaking his head.

"No. Him, you could not save," he confessed quietly. "But he died believing in the fight. Your fight." There wasn't familiarity in Robin's stare, no sign that he remembered the events that John had painstakingly recalled, but he wasn't trying to run anymore. He looked ready to listen, and that was something.

"So, the Sheriff really is a liar?" Robin asked. Little John nodded.

"And you're not going to hurt me?" Again, there was a nod.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Little John."

"I think I can remember that."

"I think you can, too." Robin smiled, and for the first time since his capture, he reminded Little John of the old Robin. That made Little John smile. For some reason, Robin tilted his head to the side. Maybe his brain was remembering something, or maybe he was just amused. Either way, it was progress.

Little John stepped out of the camp, meeting the expectant stares of the gang.

"You're up," he said, patting the next contestant on the shoulder.

---

There's chapter three!

I'm trying to carry on as if the finale doesn't exist. I can't continue writing otherwise. So, for now, bear with me while I cling to Guy's redeemablility.

I feel that I've sort of cheated Little John by having his involvement in Robin's rehabilitation run so short. I do feel bad, but there is a reason for this, and I'll explain it in the next chapter. I hope that the mental image of Little John doing a fully choreographed song and dance number will comfort you all. Or make you laugh. Either one, really. (In my head it's the Money Song from Monty Python.)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	4. Sort Of

In the end, it had been Djaq who'd decided the order in which they would speak to Robin. The gang trusted her decisions, which were backed with the cool logic that accompanied most of her actions. She'd explained to them that it would be best to ease Robin back into his memories, like one would ease into a hot bath.

"Go in too fast, and you'll only get burned," she nodded confidently. Little John had been first because he had been present when Robin had first gotten the idea to rob from the rich and give to the poor. Much had quickly pointed out that he and Will had also been present, but Djaq had been prepared for his initial indignation.

"Yes, but Little John didn't try to kill the Sheriff. Besides, Much, you have to go last," she raised a hand to stop him from objecting. "You know Robin the best. You know his secrets." This statement seemed to bolster Much's confidence, and he calmed down, nodding at Djaq as she stepped into the camp.

---

Robin looked far more relaxed, sprawled out by the fire, leaning on his elbows as the orange and red flames danced before him. He couldn't say that he remembered Little John, or any of the events that he'd described to him, but there was a familiar quality to the man's voice. It was honesty. When he'd calmed down enough to truly listen to the man, Robin instinctively knew that he could believe what he'd said.

"Robin?" He looked up, peering over the fire to see that someone else had entered the camp. It was the Saracen woman. Robin couldn't help but think to himself that she was very pretty, but instantly his mind reached back to images of Marian, and he pushed the thought from his mind. She sat down next to him, looking at the fire, sneaking sideways glances at him, readying herself to talk.

"I'm Saffiya, but I prefer that you call me Djaq," she started. "And you are Robin Hood."

"That seems to be the consensus," Robin smiled. "Don't take this the wrong way, Djaq, but why are you so far from home?"

"I was brought into this country as a slave. I was with a group of men that the Sheriff bought to work in his silver mine. You and the gang freed us, and I wound up staying," she recalled fondly.

"Why?" Robin asked, leaning forward.

"Why what?" Djaq asked in return.

"Why would you want to stay in England? Why not go back to the Holy Land?" Robin specified, a hint of curiosity in the question. He seemed to realize how the question might've come across, and he hastily corrected himself, not wanting to seem like he resented her presence. "I mean, didn't you want to return to your family, rather than stay with a gang of people that you didn't know?" Djaq thought about her answer for a moment. No one in the gang had ever asked her that before, they'd just accepted the fact that she had joined them and went with it.

"At first, I stayed because you understood me," Djaq admitted. "You understood my language and my culture."

"I understood your language?" Robin was intrigued. "I can speak it?"

"Yes, you can," Djaq nodded matter-of-factly.

"But I'll have forgotten it," Robin muttered dejectedly, looking away from Djaq.

"You can get your memories back, Robin," she said encouragingly. Robin sat up, shaking his head.

"I can't! I've been trying to remember, and I can't! I look for answers, and I get more questions. It's like there's nothing in my head but darkness, and I don't have a light," he despaired. Djaq sighed, walking out of the camp.

"As-salamu alaykum," she said before leaving.

"Wa alaykum as-salām," Robin blurted out reflexively. He looked over at Djaq, eyes wide. She was smiling almost victoriously.

"You're still in there, Robin Hood. You'll find your way back," she reassured, hands in her pockets as she left him to his thoughts.

---

Allan sat on the battlements, staring out at the forest. It was a nice night; the wind was strong enough to be noticed, but not so strong that it was an inconvenience. Allan enjoyed the moment of calm, taking the opportunity to reflect on the past few weeks. Other than the occasional, heart-pounding adventure, things had been relatively slow going. After his whirlwind of a wedding, however, things had picked up in a flurry of events.

Robin had been captured only a day after Allan and Morgan had said their vows, and things had only gone downhill from there. Gathered from the few moments of consciousness that Robin experienced before blacking out, the physician determined that he'd suffered a terrible trauma and would likely have trouble remembering the details of his life.

From that point, Allan had been engaged in a seemingly endless dance, trying to convince the Sheriff that his plan would work while trying to keep his concern for Robin hidden. On top of that, he'd had to convince an angry Marian that he wasn't really trying to hurt Robin's reputation. It was somehow far more difficult to talk to Marian when she was waving a dagger in his face. Given everything that had happened, Allan had not seen as much of Morgan as he had hoped to.

He was wondering if he was getting a taste of what it was like for Robin and Marian when Guy found him.

"Allan, get to bed. You have work in the morning," he ordered. Allan waited until he'd turned to walk away before rolling his eyes. Whoever'd come up with the phrase "all work and no play" had obvious had Guy in mind. Allan followed Guy down the winding stairway, shoving his hands into his pocket. He casually glanced at the small contingent of people that had arrived at the castle gate, smirking as Guy went to meet them.

He supposed that Guy was right. He and Marian did have work to do in the morning. Help Robin get his memories back. Pull one of the largest heists in the history of Nottingham. Lie like a dog when asked if he'd had a hand in the actions of his old gang. All in a day's work.

---

Robin sat in silence for a minute longer before he couldn't take the quiet anymore.

"I'm sorry, but aren't you supposed to be talking to me?" he asked curiously. The tall, skinny man had been sitting across from him for at least ten minutes, and all he'd done was sit there and whittle.

"I was thinking about what I was going to say," the man replied evenly. From his calm reply, Robin gathered that this was normal for the man sitting across from him. In his mind's eye, an unbidden string of images flashed. Robin closed his eyes, trying to hold on to what he assumed to be a flashback from his old life.

_"What is your crime?"_

_"Living in the wrong place at the wrong time. Living under and evil sheriff. Where do our taxes go? They go to Nottingham, to the Sheriff, to his birds."_

The second voice belonged to the man sitting before him, though it didn't seem to fit. The man sitting before him was calm and quiet. While the voice from his memory had been far from screaming, it had also been far from calm. It had also been impulsive. The man sitting before him didn't seem impulsive. Robin shrugged. He wasn't going to get answers by just thinking about it.

"Have you ever been to the dungeons?" he asked bluntly. He was surprised that such a question drew a smile from the tall, skinny man. Will couldn't help it. Robin was acting like a curious child. Or Morgan. Will figured that either comparison were applicable.

"Many times," he answered, returning to his whittling, contemplating what he would tell Robin. Would he speak of how Robin had saved him from the hangman? Would he tell Robin about how the Sheriff had killed his father? How Robin had talked him out of his temporary madness? Will frowned. Djaq had said that a story too intense would overwhelm Robin. They'd lapsed back into silence, and Robin shifted beside him.

"To the taxes really go to the Sheriff's birds?" he asked. Will looked at Robin, raising an eyebrow. How could Robin, who couldn't even remember the love of his life, remember words that Will had flippantly uttered over a year ago? It had been the first time that Will had spoken in front of Robin. Had those words really made such an impression on his leader?

"I was exaggerating," Will grinned. "But the message still stands, I think." Robin nodded, furrowing his brow. There was a small crack in the wall that had been raised around his memories. Encouraged by Will's level grin, Robin delved further into the memory, furrowing his brow.

After a moment of quiet, Robin sat up straighter, a victorious light in his eyes.

"Will?" he asked. "Is that your name?" his answer was the way that Will's smile widened slightly. Somehow, Will had provided Robin with an answer without actually saying anything. Robin scratched the back of his ear.

"Little John, Will, Djaq…" He closed his eyes, listing the members of the gang that he had been reintroduced to, trying to recall the rest of the gang for himself. "Much and Allan."

"Much, yes. Allan, sort of," Will corrected. Robin thought about it for a moment, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"The Allan that's with Gisborne? He's with us, too?" Robin asked. Will stared for a moment before standing up, patting Robin on the shoulder.

"Sort of," he repeated, dodging the question.

---

Marian was aggravated. Normally, when things got frustrating in the castle, she'd don her costume and spring into action as the Night Watchman. Seeing as her costume had been burned, however, she was forced to settle for her embroidery. The irony of it wasn't lost on her. She heaved a sigh as she pulled the thread through the handkerchief. It was late, but she couldn't sleep.

Guy had come by an hour before, holding the bridge of his nose as he stepped inside. He had a headache, which meant that Allan had already weaved his magic. Marian tried not to laugh as Guy explained that he had indeed spoken with Allan, going on to tell her that she would accompany the former outlaw into the forest in the morning. He didn't seem comfortable with the idea, but it seemed that Allan had convinced him that more than two people would attract attention.

Initially, Marian had been excited. After all, she'd be allowed to go into the forest with a guard who, let's face it, wasn't really much of a guard. She'd also be able to help Robin. After thinking about it, however, she began to worry. What if she couldn't help Robin? What if he was doomed to be an empty shell for the rest of his life? Allan claimed that he had a plan, but he had yet to divulge the details of this plan. It was a fact that transformed Marian's worry into agitation.

She considered Allan to be her friend, but that didn't stop her from finding his current arrogance to be insufferable. She had wanted to point out that if he did have a plan, he should share it with her so that she would know what was going on, or at least point out any possible problems that they might face. In her experience, it helped to be prepared. Before she had gotten around to pointing this out to him, though, he'd slipped out of the room, leaving her with her thoughts.

Marian had become so aggravated that she found it hard to focus, accidentally pricking her finger on her embroidery needle. She raised her eyebrow at the small wound, where the blood had beaded up, as if to say that she had suffered far worse.

She moved to the wash basin, dabbing at the bloodied area with a damp cloth. As she cleaned up, she glanced out the window, where a considerable number of men were moving in the courtyard. They were shouting back and forth while Guy supervised, directing men carrying large chests into the castle.

Marian wasn't sure what was in the chests, but she had a hunch. She also had an inkling of what Allan was planning. If she was correct, than so was he. It was both stupid and dangerous. And she liked it.

---

"He remembered my name," Will reported. "He also remembered you, Much." Djaq frowned. Will had told them nothing but good news, but he looked bothered by something.

"And?" she asked, gently pushing him to continue.

"He remembers Allan being in the gang, but I don't think he remembers Allan leaving," Will postulated. "I don't think he's quite ready for that yet. Anyway, it's getting late. I think we should let him rest."

"Yes," Much agreed. "He should rest. I think he was still out of it from that strawberry concoction." He pointed into the camp. In the short time that he'd been alone, Robin had dozed off, curled up next to the fire.

"I think he's got the right idea," Morgan yawned, stepping inside and climbing into her loft, falling asleep before her head hit her pillow. Her actions seemed to remind the gang of how tired they actually were, and they quickly decided on watch duty before Will, Djaq, and Little John went to their bunks. Much, though extremely tired, took the first watch. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his old friend, who was sleeping by the fire.

"You'd better get better soon," Much commented as soon as he was sure that everyone was asleep. "I won't get a proper night's rest until you do."

---

Sorry that this is taking so long! It's been a trying week for me. The good news is that I've already planned out a healthy portion of the next chapter.

I'm not going to say that it'll be quicker, though, because it'll jinx it. XD Just know that I'm doing my best to get it posted quickly, and that it involves some fluff. Hurray for fluff?

This story is a little over halfway done, and I've actually started working on the next story, which pretty much outlines what Morgan was up to while the gang was in the Holy Land.

I'm also toying around with an AU story, but I'm not sure where I'm going with it yet. Someone also suggested that I try my hand at the Lady Clark of Books challenge, but I think I'd need a little more convincing before I take that onto my plate.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Please review!


	5. Of a Sunnier Disposition

Allan hadn't slept at all. Ever since the conception of his plan, which the Sheriff theatrically referred to as "The Grand Illusion," Guy and Allan had been staying at the castle, giving the appearance that Robin had truly moved back into Locksley Manor. It was all good and well for Guy; as the Sheriff's right hand, he was given a relatively lavish room. Allan had been stuck in what he guessed was the servant's quarters. The bed wasn't so much a bed as it was a bizarre arrangement of lumpy pillows; even his bedroll in the forest had been more comfortable.

This relocation did nothing for his temperament, which was quickly becoming more and more Guy-like as the week progressed. He had just finished tacking the horses for himself and Marian when the Sheriff paraded into the stables, a grin on his face. Normally, he found Allan to be a pretty funny man. Presently, what with Allan going into a sort of mini Gisborne funk, the Sheriff found him to be absolutely hilarious.

"If you brush that horse any harder, you'll take its skin off," he muttered quietly, giggling to himself as Allan jumped, dropping the brush on the floor in surprise. He quickly picked the brush up, doing all in his power to stop himself from glaring at the Sheriff. He wasn't nearly as good at it as Gisborne was, which only added to the Sheriff's amusement.

"So, you've decided to take a more subtle approach in finding our dear friend Robin," he noted, the laughter still in his voice. Allan nodded slowly, having another go at brushing the horse, his movements tense. "Take care that you don't lose her. Gisborne will be unbearably mopey otherwise."

Allan nodded, knowing that the Sheriff was trying to get a reaction out of him, that he couldn't care less about Marian's safety, and that he was being insufferable because of the large chest that had arrived the night before. The Sheriff was sure that the outlaws would have their hands full with Robin and would be unable to steal the chest.

"One man's misfortune is my gain," The Sheriff misquoted. "Imagine how foolish the outlaws must feel, going through all that trouble to rescue a leader that cannot lead. Though, in my humble opinion, he wasn't fit to lead in the first place. Just look at the crew he assembled. Really, the women were a nice touch, especially that lovely, little blacksmith, but you can hardly expect me to believe that they're there solely for fighting." Allan gripped the brush so hard that his knuckles turned white.

_That's your wife he's talking about! _A part of him yelled. The more logical part, which Allan suspected was often on holiday, responded calmly. _Relax. He's just trying to get a reaction out of you. You do anything now, and that's your cover blown, now isn't it?_ The Sheriff clapped a hand on Allan's shoulder, noting the tightness of the man's muscles.

"Word of advice, Allan. You're my favorite, but it won't continue that way if you catch leprosy." It was the most nonsensical advice that Allan had ever heard. He made a mental note to ask Guy about it later.

As the Sheriff strolled out, Marian entered, looking more than ready for her day away from the castle. She raised an eyebrow at Allan, who simply nodded at the waiting horse.

---

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Robin asked, hesitantly notching the arrow in the bow that Morgan had handed him. Morgan was standing across the camp, an apple balanced on her head.

"Sure as there's a sun," she replied, standing still. "Now, go ahead. Shoot the apple."

"What if I hurt you?" Robin asked, lowering the bow. Morgan rolled her eyes.

"You won't. You're Robin. You don't miss," she explained again. "Just shoot." Robin wasn't sure how she'd talked him into this, but the back of his mind told him that she did this sort of thing all the time. He sighed, raising the bow.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he muttered again, keeping his aim.

"Robin, it's ok! I trust you!" Morgan said impatiently. "Shoot!" Robin took aim, gulping as he focused. The bow felt right in his grip, and suddenly everything seemed to line up in front of him. He took a breath and released the arrow, hitting the apple in the exact center. Morgan grinned, pulling the arrow out of the wall behind her.

"See?" she asked, holding the arrow out to Robin. He took it, examining the perfect shot.

"It was just luck," he said, staring in wonderment.

"Not being funny, but that's skill, not luck," Morgan corrected, a wide smile on her face. Robin smiled back, narrowing his eyes. He hadn't been able to remember the young woman standing in front of him, but now that he'd spent time with her, she seemed familiar. Still, she hadn't said anything to him about his past life, other than the fact that he was an amazing shot.

"Not being funny," he copied, "but what exactly are you supposed to tell me? I'm pretty sure that they didn't expect you to do this." For a moment, Morgan cursed Robin's intuitive nature, but she supposed that it was a step in the right direction and retracted her unspoken muttering.

"They wanted me to tell you about Allan," she admitted, sitting down. Robin took the cue and sat next to her. He'd been wondering about Allan ever since Will had dodged his question the night before. He'd seemed like a nice guy, and when Robin had found out that the Sheriff was bad news, it just didn't fit that Allan was working for him. Robin had been pretty sure that Allan was his friend.

"He never meant to hurt anyone," Morgan started. "That, I can't stress enough." Now Robin was curious, scooting closer to Morgan like a child at story time. Morgan sighed, steeling herself to continue.

"He was captured by Gisborne and tortured. I suspect that Guy would've killed him if he hadn't taken the deal," she emphasized the second bit. "Again, Allan never meant to hurt anyone."

"What was the deal?" Robin asked.

"Allan agreed to spy for Gisborne," Morgan said quickly, as if getting it out in the open faster would make the betrayal less severe. Robin stared at Morgan for a moment.

"Against me?" he asked. Morgan nodded. "Why?"

"He felt stuck, Robin," she tried to explain. "He never meant to hurt anyone."

"If he felt stuck, why didn't he say something?" Robin asked. He couldn't really remember Allan, but from what he'd seen he thought that Allan was pretty rational.

"Not being funny, mate, but you're not always the easiest person to talk to about things like that. You're a bit…" Morgan fumbled for a phrase, looking down at her feet for a moment. "Black and white."

"What do you mean by that?" Morgan couldn't help but laugh at the indignant voice that she'd heard Robin use so often, usually in conversation with Much. He furrowed his brow, as if she was laughing at some sort of inside joke.

"I mean that you have definite opinions about things, and you aren't very compromising," she giggled. Robin offered a crooked smile, almost apologizing.

"Did we get in a fight? Allan and I?" he asked.

"You could say that," Morgan nodded slowly. "You banished Allan, and he went to Gisborne. But he's been helping from the inside, Robin. He's been slipping information and helping us sneak in and out of the castle and protecting Marian."

Robin tried to keep up as Morgan rattled off the shortlist of all the things that Allan had done to help the gang. He could hear voices in a heated exchange. _Everything is a choice! Everything we do! _Had that been Robin, yelling so angrily? He closed his eyes, remembering a pair of sad, blue eyes staring at him, begging him for understanding. Apparently, he hadn't been able to understand at the time. He looked at Morgan, who had taken to sharpening her hunting knife. He watched her hands move the whetstone over the blade of the knife, a practiced ease to the movements.

"I'm sorry that I can't remember your name," he apologized. Morgan glanced up at him momentarily, shrugging as she continued her work.

"That's alright. It'll come back to you," she promised.

---

"I'm just so tired of that stupid castle," Allan admitted as they rode along. Marian allowed him to vent his frustration, understanding where he was coming from. "All I want to do is leave. Maybe leave Nottingham. Get some land somewhere."

"Why don't you?" Marian asked.

"I can't just walk out on the lads," he answered, giving Marian a sideways glance. "I wasn't lying when I said that I love them, you know."

"Well, you did help save my life, and you're taking a great risk to help Robin now. Maybe he'll let you back into the gang," Marian suggested. Allan nodded, though he didn't look convinced. Maybe the Robin that had gotten smacked around the head would let him back in the gang, but once he got his memories back, Allan had a sneaking suspicion that his chances wouldn't be as good.

"It's just…" Allan paused, grasping at words. "I've made a lot of mistakes, and I try to keep moving, but they're the kind of mistakes that I can't get away from." Marian was surprised that Allan was telling her all of this, and from the look on his face, he was equally surprised. Nonetheless, he continued.

"Not even starting with this mess with Gisborne, you know? Cheating people in taverns, the people that I was supposed to be helping. Running off with Gisborne's silver when I should've gone back to the lads. Tom…" Allan shook his head, this voice trailing off as his brother's name slipped past his lips. He made a point to avoid Marian's gaze.

"Who's Tom?" Marian asked, hearing the deep-seated hurt in his voice and deciding that Allan had helped her and she would do the same for him.

"Don't worry about it," Allan mumbled, wishing that they were closer to the camp. Marian was probably the most stubborn person her knew. Well, he knew Robin, so maybe she was the second most stubborn. She wasn't going to let something like this slide.

"Allan," Marian persisted. "Who's Tom?" He could feel her stare boring into him, and he sighed.

"Tom was my brother," he caved. "He was my little brother, alright? Now, about Robin…" Marian had been around Allan long enough to know when he was about to slip out of a question, and she simply wasn't going to tolerate it.

"We can talk about Robin when we get to the camp," she said with such a finality that Allan knew he was cornered. He hardly felt that it was the time for them to be talking about his problems, and even if it was, he wasn't too keen on sharing. Even though he didn't feel compelled to spill his heart out, the glare that Marian sent at him told him that he didn't really have a choice.

"Do you remember when you got engaged to Guy?" he asked, knowing that answer. "The day before, three men tried to rob your house. Tom was one of them." He'd been strategic about his explanation, ensuring that Marian would be able to figure out what had happened to Tom while avoiding actually saying it himself. Marian's hand moved to her mouth, and the glare that she'd fixed him with quickly changed to a look of sympathy.

"About Robin," Allan said pointedly, changing the subject.

---

Robin was pleased with himself, and he allowed the fact to show as Morgan laughed out loud. She had decided that the memories she could've shared with Robin would've been too much to handle, not only for Robin, but for her as well. Instead, she sat back and allowed Robin to think about all of the things he'd been told, all of the things that he'd remembered, and all of the things that he was currently thinking. The memories seemed to be coming to him with less difficulty, and he didn't hesitate to tell Morgan everything that he remembered.

Morgan nodded, though she couldn't really confirm any of his retellings, having been absent for a majority of the events he was recalling. He seemed to remember his life as an outlaw and all of the heists the gang had pulled off. If Morgan hadn't known any better, she wouldn't have known that Robin had lost his memory, the way that he was carrying on. He was acting with the cool, confident air that he normally did, the familiar swagger evident in his speech and his movements.

"Am I interrupting?" Robin had been so caught up in telling Morgan about a Saracen assassin squad neither one of them had noticed when Marian poked her head into the camp. Morgan was quick to pick up on the fact that Marian's presence entailed Allan's, and she stood, brushing herself off.

"Robin was telling me about the gang before I joined," she informed. "Maybe you could help him out. I mean, you were there and all." Not giving time for a reply, she exited the camp, leaving Marian and Robin alone.

"Where is she off to?" Robin asked, peering after Morgan, wondering at her abrupt exit. He missed Marian's subtle smirk.

"She has business to attend to," Marian sighed, taking the empty space next to Robin, trying not to laugh as he grinned at her with the sweet-but-goofy grin that he'd used when they were much younger. It reminded her of before he left for the Crusade, before he'd come back with the terrors of the Holy Land weighing down on his mind.

Part of Marian wanted things to remain as they were, to save Robin from the nightmares that he'd never admit to having. She shook her head. England needed Robin Hood. She needed Robin Hood. For a moment, they sat in a comfortable silence, in which Robin discretely moved his hand until it bumped up against hers.

---

As soon as Marian had disappeared into the camp, the gang parted like the Red Sea, as if they knew what was coming. Sure enough, Morgan ran out seconds later, leaping into Allan's arms, her arms wrapping tightly around her husband.

"How is he?" Allan asked, nodding at the camp.

"Better," Morgan answered. "He can still shoot, and I think he remembers most of his life as an outlaw."

"What about before?" Much asked. Morgan's smile faltered.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "He didn't say anything about it." Much tried to hide his disappointment with a smile. The gesture tugged at his features for a moment before he abandoned the pretense and sighed, bowing his head.

"Hey, none of that," Allan spoke up, the optimism coming easily with Morgan in his arms. "Positive attitudes and all." Much hadn't been expecting encouraging words from Allan, and he stared at the former outlaw with wide-eyes.

"What?" Allan asked, his hand moving to his face. "Have I got something on my face?" He wasn't sure why Much started laughing like a madman, but he figured it was a good sign.

---

And then my brain exploded. Hey, everyone! Sorry about the stupid amount of time it's taking me to get this story done. I actually had a huge surge of inspiration on another fic.

Also, I have really mixed feelings about this chapter. It didn't turn out at all like I planned, but I don't necessarily hate it. I dunno. At any rate, I have some good news and bad news.

The bad news is that the next and last chapter of this story will take a while.

The good news is that when I post the next story, you'll likely get three chapters at once. Yay?

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Please review!


	6. Security

"Do you remember Locksley?"

"No."

"Do you remember the summers at Knighton?"

"Sorry." Marian didn't know what to do. Robin remembered everything after his return from the Holy Land, but he didn't seem to have the slightest inkling of his life beforehand. Despite the fact that she knew that Robin honestly couldn't remember anything, Marian found that she was annoyed with him. The grin on his face suggested that he was joking with her.

"It's not your fault that you got hit around the head. From what Much told me, Morgan left her post," Marian reminded, being as patient as possible. Robin sniggered, shaking his head.

"No, I remember that. It was my fault," he corrected. "I told Morgan to leave her post." Marian stared, so Robin took it as a cue to continue.

"Well," he muttered, slightly pink in the cheeks. "It's been a while since we became engaged. And I wanted to get you a present." Marian let out a groan of frustration, piecing the rest together.

"You can't be serious," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not being funny, but I'm completely serious," Robin reassured, picking up the quirky phrase from Allan and Morgan. Marian thought it was ironic that Robin was picking up the habits of someone that he'd exiled from his gang, but she thought it best not to mention that to Robin.

"So, you're saying that you sent Morgan to get a present for me, and that's why this whole mess started?" she asked. Robin avoided her gaze and nodded, embarrassed. Marian rolled her eyes and slipped her arms around her betrothed.

"You are an utter fool," she joked. Robin chuckled and returned her embrace. For a moment, they sat there, comfortable in each others' arms. Robin sighed contentedly, resting his chin on Marian's head, aware of the faint scent of lavender in her hair. Marian felt Robin tense up.

"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively.

"You used to wear braids all the time. And your father used to scold you for dirtying your dresses," Robin whispered, his grip on Marian tightening. "We always knew that we would be married, but then…" he trailed off, his mind scrambling for an answer. And then what? "Marian, where did I go?"

Marian had been trying to answer that question ever since Robin had strutted up to her doorstep over a year ago. True, a man called Robin had come back from the Holy Land, but he was so different from the boy that Marian had fallen in love with. This state of amnesia had been the closest that she'd been to the old Robin, the Robin that wasn't haunted by the horrors of Palestine. The Robin that hadn't decided to fight the institution and flee to the forest. The Robin that hadn't left her waiting.

"I don't have that answer," she spoke softly, gently stroking his back with her fingers. She looked up at him, smiling sadly. "There's only one person who was with you the whole time."

---

Much had been anticipating his talk with Robin. He'd ran through it in his mind a thousand times, carefully picking out the details he would tell first, picking the most poignant stories from their time in the Holy Land. Now that he was sitting across from his dearest friend, he found that all of his careful planning had spilled out of his head, which he attributed to nerves.

"We've never talked about the Holy Land before," he finally blurted out, surprised at the angry edge to his tone. "You like to pretend that we were never even there, even though I try to talk about it all the time."

Robin stared at him, trying to work out why he was so upset. The fact that he honestly didn't know calmed Much down. He decided to change tactics.

"It'll be your birthday soon," he mentioned casually. "We didn't celebrate it last year. Or the year before."

"Why not?" Robin asked curiously.

"Last year, we were too busy feeding the poor and running from the Sheriff. The year before, you were… You were not yourself," Much tried to pick his words carefully, attempting to gently push Robin back into his memories. "A bit feverish, actually." His eyes darted up to meet Robin's, and he scrutinized his friend's gaze, looking for anything remotely related to recognition.

Robin could tell by looking at Much that this was a matter of great importance. He closed his eyes, trying to cling to anything that floated through his mind. He could see a wolf, and he could feel a sharp pain. His hand moved to his side, and he looked to Much.

"There was an attack on the King. They were dressed as Saracens," Much started in a low voice. As he spoke, Robin could see flashes of the battle. Arrows flying through the air, cutting down the attackers. A sharp pain breaking his complete focus. Much's worried eyes as he ran to his side. "One of them stabbed you. I went for help. You saved King Richard's life." Robin slowly opened the vest he was wearing, sliding the material of his undershirt up until he could see the ugly scar on his side.

"It was Gisborne." Much was relieved that Robin was no longer addressing his nemesis by his first name, but he waited for a moment, wondering if the realization had been too much for Robin to handle. "He had a tattoo of a wolf on his arm."

"Is that what it was?" Much asked. The painted pattern on Gisborne's arm hadn't really looked like anything to him. Then again, when he'd seen it, he'd had other things on his mind. "You took a fever. I thought…. I thought that I'd lost you." Robin tore his gaze away from his scar. It was clear that Much was holding back his tears for fear of looking weak in front of his friend. Robin could remember that tone with increasing familiarity.

_"Heavenly Father, please, let it be in your great plan to let Robin stay here with me. I know I don't have the place to ask this of you, but I have to, Lord, for I cannot see my life without Robin in it."_

"Oh, Much," Robin stated simply. In typical Much fashion, the former manservant stared for a moment before smiling and allowing the tears to leak out of his eyes. Much recounted the rest of the raid at Acre, and Robin say patiently and listened. And for all the horrors they had faced together, for all of the memories from their childhood, it was all that was needed.

---

"Remarkable work," The sheriff smiled gleefully, rubbing his hands together as Allan and Marian led Robin into the Great Hall. "Where did you find him?" Allan grinned, which told Vaysey that the boy had news of the good variety.

"We found him on the Great North Road. He'd managed to escape the gang," Allan reported. He trusted that he didn't have to tell Vaysey what that meant. The malicious glint in the latter mentioned's eye confirmed this line of thought.

"Robin, do you think you could lead us back to the camp?" The sheriff asked, trying to sound patient. Robin nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord," he answered tentatively, managing a weak smile as the Sheriff turned to face Guy.

"The horses!" he ordered. "Allan, you make sure that the gallows are ready for when we return!" Allan nodded and watched as the Sheriff practically danced out of the room, followed by a less-than-amused looking Guy. Robin lingered for a moment, trading a subtle smile with Marian before following them. As soon as they were safely gone, Allan called over one of the guards.

"Make sure that there are nooses ready for when the Sheriff returns," he commanded, passing his duty down the line. The guard nodded and scampered off to do what was asked of him.

"That's for believability," Allan explained as he caught sight of Marian's glare. "If the Sheriff notices that there aren't any nooses when he gets back, he'll likely have me hanged."

"He's likely to be in a foul mood," Marian consented. "Remind me never to make you angry, Allan. This plan of yours is ruthless." Allan shrugged, as he and Marian snuck deftly through the corridors. He hoped that her comment was a compliment.

"Not being funny, but it's not like he didn't have it coming," he pointed out, eliciting a soft laugh.

"True," Marian agreed. "Still, I do wonder how you came up with this plan." The question was indirect, but it was clearly there, and Allan felt obliged to explain.

"I actually got the idea from Guy," he admitted, peeking around a corner before moving into a corridor.

"Guy?" Marian questioned. Allan nodded.

"You know how he was pretending to be Robin's friend and all?" Allan didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Well, I figured that if Guy, who hates Robin with every fiber of his being, can pretend to be friends with him, Robin should have no trouble doing the same."

"So, Robin pretends that he still can't remember anything, and leads Guy and the Sheriff into the woods on a wild goose chase?" Marian asked, making sure that she'd said it correctly. Allan grinned.

"Yes. And while they take the best men with them, running circles in the forest, it leaves us pretty open to relieve them of the considerable amount of gold that they've got stored away," he finished neatly.

"Good," Marian approved. "Now, I have another question." Allan froze, partially because there was a guard coming and partially because he had a fair idea of what Marian was going to ask. She was, after all, one of the most stubborn people he knew.

"Do you want to talk about your brother?"

"No, I'm alright," he muttered good-naturedly, hoping that if he didn't seem affected by it, Marian would let it go. Even if this was not the case, it bought him enough time to steal down the hallway, stopping and glancing down the hall at the guarded room that held the consignment of gold. He eyed the two guards, thankful for the Sheriff's predictable arrogance.

"How do we get in?" Marian asked, annoyed that she hadn't been privy to the entirety of Allan's plan. "If you distract them, I can probably knock them out."

"Relax," Allan replied. "I've got it taken care of." Without another, word, he ducked into the nearest chamber and made his way towards the window. Marian followed, wondering what he could've possibly been thinking when he suddenly jumped, disappearing from view.

"Allan!" she called, keeping her voice low so as not to be heard. She scrambled over to the window, hesitating to look out.

"Yes?" he asked innocently, standing at his full height. He was standing on a ledge just outside of the window, and Marian found that half of her was impressed with the detail of his plan. The other half was ready to strangle him.

"That is not funny, Allan A Dale," she hissed, climbing out of the window and dropping gently onto the ledge, following Allan as he scooted carefully along, counting windows as he went.

"Here we are," he announced with a grin, climbing into the dark room, holding out a hand to help Marian. The sliver of moonlight that cut into the chamber fell conveniently on the chest in the center of the room. Marian watched as Allan pulling several empty bags from under his vest and unwound a coil of rope from around his waist.

They loaded the bags in silence, careful not to alert the guards to their presence. Allan tied the heavy bags to the length of rope and cautiously peeked out of the window.

"Help me," he whispered, using the rope to the lower the bags out of the window. Marian obeyed, knowing that the weight of the load would become more cumbersome as they went.

"I paid a merchant to leave his cart for the night," he explained quietly, nodding down at the waiting buggy. Marian frowned. This was not an Allan plan. An Allan plan, much like a Robin plan, was made up largely on the fly. This plan had far too much attention to detail. She hesitated to say that it was too _good_ to be an Allan plan, because Allan's plans, bizarre though they were, were generally good. This plan was simply too complete.

"Allan, who helped you with this plan?" she asked. Allan ignored the question for the moment, having lowered the last bit of gold into the waiting cart below.

"Come on. We shouldn't stay here," he muttered. Marian rolled her eyes, quite fed up with the trickster's constant evasions. Still, he had a point, so she followed him back across the ledge and waited until they'd made it safely away from the guards before pressing the issue.

"Who helped you with this plan?" she repeated. Allan heaved a sigh, weighing his options. Either he could keep his mouth shut, in which case Marian was likely to badger him at every opportunity, or he could talk now, in which case the matter would be settled. When he thought of it like that, it was an easy choice to make.

"It was Tom's plan," he started. "When he came to Nottingham, he was planning on stealing from the castle."

"The same man that thoughtlessly tried to rob my father?" Marian asked skeptically.

"One and the same," he agreed. "Tom was never good at the short term, but he wasn't an idiot." There was a fondness in Allan's voice that Marian had heard him use when referring to Will, and it occurred to her just how much the gang meant to Allan.

"He was the one that stole the necklace from Lucky George, you know," Allan mentioned, bragging on his little brother. Marian smiled and nodded.

"Robin told me that much," she recalled. "He saved my life, as well as my father's." Allan nodded, the proud smile stopping on his lips as he fought back his grief.

"It hurts," he admitted as they reached the courtyard. "To face them everyday, knowing that they ordered him to death. It hurts more, knowing that Robin thinks that I'm like them."

"He doesn't," Marian said quickly, though she wasn't sure if the statement was true or not. Allan seemed to pick up on this, for he raised an eyebrow at Marian, marking his incredulity.

"Well, he shouldn't," Marian amended. "You're not a bad person, Allan." Feeling that this sounded a bit sappy, she added to her statement.

"Selfish and lazy, but not bad."

"Thanks," Allan muttered sarcastically, moving the contents of the cart so that the bags of gold were safely hidden. With that, he produced a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a mark on the side of the cart. "That's that. Nothing left to do now but wait."

---

"Maybe it was a left," Robin mused aloud, walking several feet ahead of the convoy. The Sheriff was doing everything in his power to hide his mounting impatience, but Guy could practically hear the steam escaping from his ears.

"Robin, if you don't remember, that's alright," Guy called, trying to act the best friend.

"No, wait," Robin called over his shoulder. "I remember. We…" As he began the familiar cry, Guy felt his stomach sink. The Sheriff was already turning a horrible shade of what Guy guessed to be puce. "ARE ROBIN HOOD!"

Several voices joined in the proclamation, as the Sheriff and crew found that they were surrounded. In the commotion of the next few minutes, what with arrows flying every which way and Robin ducking into the trees and the Sheriff yelling in his ear, Guy surmised that it was going to be a very long night.

---

"I must say, this has been quite a week," Much smiled as he unloaded a bag of gold from the marked cart of a slightly bewildered merchant. It was nearly noon on the following day, and word had already reached the outlaws of how the Sheriff had returned to the castle, positively fuming. Guy, in a rather wise move, had faked some manner of illness, instructing Allan to fetch Marian from the castle, giving the Sheriff the appropriate space to seethe. Marian and Allan had promptly informed the gang of the incoming supply of gold before reporting to Locksley.

"Well, I for one am glad that everything is back to normal," Djaq commented.

"That, I agree with," John seconded, clapping a hand on Robin's back. "Welcome back, Robin." Will lifted the last bag of gold from the cart, nodding to the merchant and watching him ride off.

"I think that this is cause for celebration," he suggested. Morgan flung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his hair.

"Oh, too right, William!" she concurred loudly, laughing as Will shrugged her off with a grin. "I'm thinking food, ale, and song!"

"Song!" Much agreed.

"No!" Robin said quickly. "No song! Absolutely no song!"

"Food and ale, though, right?" Morgan asked. Robin smirked and shook his head.

"Of course, Mary," he smiled, heading back to camp. As the rest of the gang followed, Morgan paused.

"Mary?" she asked. "Don't tell me you still don't remember me, Robin!"

"I was only joking. I remember you, Marcia," he grinned over his shoulder. The gang sniggered as Morgan figured out the mischief in Robin's smile.

"Oh, very funny, Robin," she called after, jogging to catch up to Much, who was holding up the rear.

"Don't worry. We'll get him back at his birthday party," Much promised.

---

The end! (Finally.)

Sorry, sorry, and sorry that this took so long! A huge, huge, huge amount of thanks to Gilari, who helped me plow through my writer's block.

So, the reason that this took me so long was that I wanted to get the conversation with Much and Robin just right. …I'm still not sure that it's exactly what I wanted, but I'd like to think that it's miles better than my original draft.

I love writing the friendship with Marian and Allan, and I was also glad to bring up Tom and how his death affected Allan.

As for Allan's plan, it was largely inspired by the steady stream of heist movies that I've been watching as of late.

So, I hope that you enjoyed!

Thanks to Gwenyth Hunter, GlitteringEtiquette, ZebraBlonde, MissWed, DeanParker, Mac's Girl, PetiteDiable, Gilari, KateSutherland, Gewher, spinningisfun, Saffron Marchbanks, DeathlyElegance, ness345, Kates Master, Soapy-Liedown, KeepingAmused, acdecnerd, Capt. Cow, whatsthefracas, unglittering gold, RocMySox, knacky, Nelle07, BeckyScarlett, Leah Day, and freddiebrandis for the reviews!


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